Subtitled memories

Bright orange lines of the electric fire, and i am there again, pushing my paper torches between the grille on the front, watching the paper blacken and smoke and finally, flame. The man's voice speaks in my head

I'm looking at the fire, feeling the heat, watching it dance and seeing what it becomes. I'm almost there, i've almost got a handle on it, i nearly understand. A hand grasps my arm, a hand bigger than my head. Another takes the torch from the fingers, turns off the fire. I watch disappointed as the orange lines fade to black. He lifts me up and sits, placing me on his knee.

I understand that i am bad. He's disappointed in me. I am sad. More words, more kind, sad eyes. I have to learn, i have to remember. This is to make me remember. Do i understand? He turns me around on his knee.

The other hand falls, fire in my bottom, impact makes me grip on the hand i hold, i look at his face as the hand falls again, still patient, still sad. The door bangs open, he looks up, she looks, screams at him, don't know those words, don't understand